


This One Day Of Days

by Aleakim



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleakim/pseuds/Aleakim
Summary: -An angel, a demon and some very human Christmas traditions.-
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	This One Day Of Days

**Author's Note:**

> -
> 
> Hey, fellas!
> 
> Usually I don't really do holiday fics (next to this I wrote like one tiny Christmas snippets years ago), but as always those ineffable idiots make me do things I never expected before 😝
> 
> So I wish you lots of fun with ALL THE FLUFF!
> 
> -

“Would you like a present, angel?”

Aziraphale, who has been captivated by the newest addition to his vast book collection until now, suddenly looks up in confusion, his gaze landing on Crowley dropping onto the couch next to him.

“A present?” Aziraphale wonders. “What would I need one for?”

Crowley shoots him a fond smile, his beautiful eyes glinting. “It's _Christmas_ , angel. People usually exchange gifts around this time of year.”

Aziraphale fails to see what that has to do with anything. “So?” He tilts his head, leaning closer to the demon out of pure instinct. “In the last six-thousand years we didn't celebrate Christmas even once.”

“But it's the first one after the nonpocalypse,” he reminds Aziraphale. “A lot has changed.”

His smile turns both affectionate and a little bit lewd, making it absolutely impossible for the angel not to blush.

“Well …”

“I'll give you anything you want,” Crowley promises, his warm breath skidding over the angel's skin as he whispers those words right into Aziraphale's ear. “ _Anything_.”

Aziraphale's flush deepens even more and for a moment he feels so utterly flustered he forgets how language even works, only offering some incoherent noises as he begins to fidget.

But then he can't help chuckling to himself. “An angel and a demon, celebrating Christmas together? That sounds so wrong on every single plane of existence.”

Crowley laughs good-naturedly. “Even more tempting to screw them all and do whatever the hell we please, don't you think?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale chides him, though without any real heat in his voice.

“So, what would you like the most?” Crowley asks, his fingers absently brushing over Aziraphale's palm. “A special book? A massage?”

Aziraphale has to admit that does sounds kind of nice, actually.

“Or I could pop over to Paris and get you some decent brioche,” Crowley proposes. “And maybe some homemade jam from that little shop in Lancaster you've been talking about non-stop for years.”

Aziraphale hums, feeling himself getting very intrigued now.

“And how about _this_?” the demons asks. “I heard it's a special Christmas tradition.”

Aziraphale watches how he pulls something out of his pocket and for a second he has no idea what it is, only sees green and red, but his features soften as soon as he recognises the item in Crowley's hand.

“My dear,” he says, looking at the mistletoe with fondness.

“Would you like one of those, angel?” Crowley asks, his smile bright. “It's yours if you want it.”

Aziraphale senses something warm pressing within his chest at the eagerness in Crowley's tone. “Sweetheart,” he says, cupping Crowley's hand gently, “thank you so much, but mistletoes aren't something you give each other as presents. They're supposed to be put up around the house.”

Crowley blinks. “Yeah?”

Aziraphale nods. “When two people meet underneath some mistletoe, a kiss should follow.”

Crowley studies him for a while in silence, his expression pensive as though he's trying to solve the world's biggest mysteries, but before Aziraphale has a chance to try helping him out the demon suddenly holds the mistletoe right above their heads, leans in and presses his lips against the angel's.

Aziraphale's heart can't help stuttering at that.

Part of himself thinks he should be used to it by now (after all, in the last few months they were more than keen to make up efficiently for all the lost time), however, every single time Crowley kisses him, touches him, smiles at him, even merely looks at him, Aziraphale is hit by such an onslaught of emotions he's actually kind of surprised he managed to survive for so long.

It feels like  _everything_ .

Aziraphale makes an embarrassing sound deep in his throat as he reciprocates, his fingers finding themselves in Crowley's dishevelled hair. He pulls the demon closer, eager to feel more, to have him all over himself, and Crowley seems wholeheartedly to agree as he moans lowly and deepens the kiss.

For a long while it switches between soft and sweet, like a light breeze on a warm day, and sensual and passionate, resembling a hurricane ready to turn everything upside down.

And the whole time the mistletoe hangs over their heads. 

Aziraphale has no idea how much time has passed – as eternal beings breathing is unnecessarily, therefore it's not like such basic needs could interrupt their time together in any way –, but eventually they pull apart.

A little bit.

At least far enough that they're able to look into each other's eyes.

Aziraphale feels exhilarated as he sees all the love in Crowley's gaze. The adoration. The affection.

Aziraphale is pretty sure he himself is even worse.

However, there is one thing in Crowley's features that makes him pause.

Amusement. Mirth.

Aziraphale frowns, for a second seriously puzzled by that unexpected emotion. But thanks to the fact that he knows Crowley better than anyone else on the planet  _ever_ knew another person in all of time and space it doesn't take him long to figure out the demon's source of delight.

“You've been aware of the mistletoe's true purpose the entire time, haven't you?”

Crowley laughs quietly. “Of course, angel,” he says, as if believing anything else would be truly absurd to begin with. “Who do you think invented the mistletoe tradition in the first place?”

Aziraphale raises a brow, surprised and at the same time not surprised at all. “You did?”

Crowley's grin grows even bigger. “Oh, all the awkward moments it created over time,” he points out. “All the discomfort …”

“And all the love,” Aziraphale adds.

Crowley snorts. “Yeah, well, I didn't mention  _that_ in my reports to Hell, of course.”

“Of course.”

Crowley has always been a true wonder. Basically since the moment they met in the Garden. Aziraphale still fells utterly blessed that their paths crossed that day millennia ago.

“You didn't answer my question, though,” Crowley says, putting the mistletoe on a little coffee table nearby.

Aziraphale smiles bashfully. “If I would like a present for Christmas?”

“Yes.”

Aziraphale drops a soft kiss onto the corners of Crowley's mouth, revelling in the sight of the demon's cheeks turning a light shade of red.

“I have everything I could ask for.”

It's true.

He couldn't think of a single thing that would make him ever happier than he already is right now.

Well …

Granted,  _maybe_ … 

“Although I have to admit, that massage you mentioned has a nice ring to it,” Aziraphale confesses after a moment.

Crowley chuckles at that. “Yeah?”

Aziraphale chews on his bottom lip. “And naturally I wouldn't reject some tasty brioche if they accidentally found themselves in my path.”

Crowley's grin is back tenfold. “Naturally.”

The angel lowers his gaze. “But of course you don't have to, my dear,” he hurries to reassure. “Because I mean it, I don't need anything –”

“Nonsense,” Crowley cuts in. He presses another kiss onto Aziraphale's lips, only chaste and brief, but no less earthshattering. “Only the best for my angel.”

And so it happens that on the very first Christmas after the apocalypse-that-wasn't Aziraphale finds himself blessed with a huge supply of the most delicious brioche and an almost outrageously intimate massage.

And Crowley?

Well, Aziraphale carries the mistletoe with him the entire day and makes more than sure that Crowley won't forget this very special day  _ever_ .


End file.
